


Confessions of a Virgin Sacrifice

by cfcureton



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), olicity - Fandom
Genre: Alternative Universe - No Island, Angsty teenage stuff, But quirky and fun too, F/M, Plus the usual Olicity goodness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:02:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cfcureton/pseuds/cfcureton
Summary: An Olicity High School AU.This one’s going out to the FAMdom that keeps me sane. Y’all got a sneak peak of this story, and now I’m dedicating the whole damn thing to you. All my love forever. ❤️
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 73
Kudos: 144





	1. Chapter 1

The ancient Honda had a few more miles in her, her mother was fond of saying. Felicity often wished this was not the case, but never more fervently than today, the first day of school. Donna Smoak, gripping the steering wheel somewhere north of ten-and-two in a way that kept her drying home manicure from touching anything, chattered away about what an exciting opportunity it was blah blah blah something something. Felicity was trying to block it out. 

It was bad enough to grow up the shy, nerdy kid of a gorgeous single mother, but possibly worse to be moved eleven hundred miles away just as another year of high school was starting and she was beginning to see a glimmer of hope that her emerging adulthood might be slightly less torturous than her youth. 

So far, this was not the case.

The Honda made a noise not unlike a large dying mammal as her mother eased it toward the curb in front of the school. Teenagers with backpacks and laptop bags turned to look at the spectacle of the Smoak ladies rolling onto campus, their faces registering everything from mild disinterest to unbridled amusement. 

“Let me out here,” Felicity said suddenly, already reaching for the door handle—though gingerly, because an enthusiastic grip could make it fall off—her body straining toward the outdoors like she’d spent her entire life in a dark room. “Mom...”

“Okay, okay.” The brakes gave a raucous squeal in response to Donna’s high heeled demand. “Have a—“

But Felicity was already up and gone with a squeak and a slam, hiking her backpack onto her shoulder as she all but sprinted away from the car. 

“—good day.” Donna’s mouth puckered into a sad little moue before she coaxed the car to roll forward again.

Felicity aggressively avoided making eye contact as she power walked toward the storied halls of Starling Academy. She’d never imagined herself going to a prestigious prep school, a thought made even more bizarre by the juxtaposition of the lineup of luxury vehicles following her mother’s exhaust-belching POS around the front circular drive. If she found even one other student she could relate to, it would be a miracle.

She jogged up the front steps into the century old building and turned right into the front office; she’d been given a quick tour on the day she registered, but they’d told her to come back for her finalized schedule on the first day. The room was filled with students queuing in various lines, none of which had signage. Felicity chose the one furthest from the door at random and stepped into line.

She kept her eyes lowered, one hand gripping the strap of her backpack while she whisked her hair behind her ear with the other; a ponytail would have to be on the agenda for tomorrow. The shoes directly in front of her shuffled forward a space and she dutifully followed; her head lifted automatically to assess her progress toward the desk, and that’s when she saw him in the hallway leading to the principal’s office. 

He was tall, with shoulders just beginning to fill out his navy school blazer. His hair was short and sandy brown; he lifted a hand and ran it through the top twice, maybe unconsciously, or maybe in response to the lecture he seemed to be getting from the adult standing in front of him. The adult waved a hand down the hall and they both turned, but not before her mystery guy’s eyes flicked to hers and caught, seeming to appraise her from top to bottom in one glance. The corner of his mouth ticked up in a way that made her heart skip a beat, and then he was gone. 

“Line’s moving, baby cakes.”

The voice came from over her shoulder, and it made her jump. Felicity took a step forward automatically before it occurred to her to turn around and rebuff the unwelcome nickname.

“Hey—“

“Name’s Cisco.” He juggled the books in his arms in order to extract a hand to offer her. 

Felicity studied it briefly before giving it a shake. “Felicity.”

He grinned, then lifted his chin to indicate the line they were in was moving again. 

“You new here?”

“Uh, yeah. You?”

He grinned again. “Nah, I’m a lifer. Started in the Lower School in First grade after I read everything in the public school library by the end of Kindergarten. I think they were a little afraid of me.” He looked amused by the idea. Felicity couldn’t help a rueful smile: school administrators had been worrying over what to do with her for years too.

Cisco’s sneakers squeaked against the floor as they stepped forward once more. Felicity would be next in line; she glanced nervously at the classic school clock on the wall and thought about how far she had to go to get to her first class. 

“Are you an athlete? You don’t look like an athlete,” Cisco chattered on. She threw a bewildered look over her shoulder.

“Was that an insult?”

He laughed. “Not at all. You look great, you just don’t look sporty.”

“Definitely not sporty,” she agreed, suppressing a shudder at the idea of the school’s required PE class. 

“If you’re not in a sport you have to sign up for a club. Them’s the rules.”

Felicity wrinkled her nose.

“I know, I know, but it’s not that bad.” The boy in front of Felicity moved away, making her next. Cisco crowded against her shoulder and talked faster. “Do yourself a favor and sign up for VFC. Virtual Fortnite Club.”

The lady at the counter was waiting expectantly for Felicity to make her request, but she couldn’t help pausing to reply. “Fortnite?” She winced. “Isn’t that a little 2017?”

Cisco winked. “That’s the beauty of it. Nobody joins because they want to play. We just hang out on Discord, bitch about stuff, and call it a meeting.”

The school secretary cleared her throat loudly, making both of them turn their attention to her. The lady shot Cisco a stern look over her half glasses.

“Mister Ramón, if you dismantle a library computer as an AP project again this year, you will be expelled.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Felicity watched him try and fail to look chagrined. Then he smiled wickedly. “It did hover for a few seconds, though.”

Felicity couldn’t help smiling herself as she gave her name and waited for her updated schedule. She offered her new friend a little wave as she turned to go.

“Don’t forget the club!” he called after her. “Sign ups are in Student Services, and you only have until the end of the day.”

————————————-

Felicity didn’t have time to think any more about club sign ups until she was leaving the cafeteria after lunch and overheard two girls ahead of her discussing them. She bit her lip and turned to follow them, hoping they were headed to Student Services so she wouldn’t have to get the stupid paper map of the school out of her jacket pocket again. It was embarrassing.

The girls led her straight to the proper office, a space crammed with students trying to get appointments with their counselors, rearrange their schedules, order transcripts, and yes, sign up for the myriad of clubs Starling Academy had on offer. Each club was attached to a clipboard, all of which were piled on a high top table in one corner of the office. Felicity joined the crowd pushing their way into the scrum to find their chosen club, letting out a quiet but triumphant “Ah ha!” when she was able to squeeze between two tall, skinny boys and get eyes on the table.

At the last second she had a crisis of memory: what had Cisco called it? Virtual Fortnite something. Most of the club titles on the clipboards were just acronyms. Great. She shuffled one handed through whatever she could get ahold of until one slid past that caught her eye. VFG. Virtual Fortnite Group? A quick scan of the other boards didn’t look any closer to being right, so she shrugged to herself and reached for it.

The passing period music came on over the intercom as she was scribbling her name and phone number, the warning that they were down to two minutes before the bell rang, so she didn’t take the time to look for Cisco’s name. She’d have plenty of time to thank him later for the insight. 

For now, she needed to get to class.

———————————-

She received a text at the end of the next period: “VFG will meet briefly after school today to determine our meeting schedule. Entrance 12, inside. See you there.”

Felicity bit her lip and felt a flutter of anticipation in her stomach. She hadn’t left many friends behind in the move, and that realization had seemed sadder than if she’d endured a bunch of goodbyes. Maybe this club would be a chance to make some real friends for once. She texted her mom to push her pick up time back half an hour, then thought about the Donna Smoak show rolling onto campus in all her dying Honda glory and changed it to an hour. 

She’d rather sit on the curb for thirty minutes alone than endure THAT again.

————————————-

Entrance 12 led to the sports fields, or at least that’s what it looked like based on the number of boys in tee shirts and gym shorts streaming out the doors as she turned the corner. A small group of students still in their school uniforms sat hunched in a crooked circle on one side of the hall, forcing a bottleneck as they blocked the way. Felicity tried to study them without really looking: they were indeed a nerdy bunch, though mostly girls, which surprised her. There was actually only one boy in the circle, a lanky kid with an earnest face and an unfortunate haircut. Cisco was nowhere to be seen.

Felicity stopped awkwardly at the edge of the circle because it was closed; a beautiful girl with perfect honey brown curls ordered the circle to split and three others in front of her immediately butt-scooted either direction until there was room for Felicity to drop to her knees and fill in the gap. The girl with the perfect hair glanced down at the clipboard in her hands and pursed her lips into an unhappy look. 

“That’s still not everyone, but close enough. Let’s get started.” She sat a bit straighter and squared her shoulders. “Welcome everyone. I’m Laurel. This is my third year in VFG, and I’m looking forward to being your club President.”

She flashed them a smile that clearly let everyone know it was time to acknowledge her with applause, or at the very least, smiles. A smattering of hands clapping answered back. 

Felicity fought the urge to look around; was this for real? Where was Cisco? Had he pranked her?

She wrenched her focus back to the circle; Laurel was speaking again. “We have some new people, so let’s go around the circle and say our names and grades.”

Their leader nodded to the girl on her right, and the introductions began. By the third one Felicity had given up trying to remember anything; once they got online it would be all nicknames and icons anyway. When exactly did they get to start bitching? 

The next thing she knew the girl next to her was saying she was a sophomore and then everyone was staring at her. Felicity cleared her throat. 

“Hi. I’m Felicity. Also GhostFoxGoddess, but you’ll figure that out soon enough,” she babbled. She hadn’t really meant to say that last part. Across the circle, Laurel looked faintly shocked. 

“Fox...Goddess? Do you think that’s really appropriate?”

“Um...well...” Felicity fidgeted under her gaze. What was wrong with it? She’d used it since she was eleven. 

“You didn’t say your grade,” Laurel prompted.

“Oh, um, Junior.”

The introductions went on. The boy’s name was Bartholomew, but thankfully he at least went by Barry. 

The last person in the circle was just beginning to speak when a male voice behind Felicity made a quiet comment—clearly directed at them—to guffaws of laughter. Felicity watched Laurel’s face darken with disapproval, but then it suddenly lightened. She reached a hand up to bounce her hair and relaxed the pinch of her mouth into a smile. Felicity thought she was kind of gorgeous when she smiled. 

The loud laughter belonged to yet another group of male athletes on their way outside for whatever sports practice one did with sticks with baskets and face masks. Weird. Felicity had only spared them a glance, but at the last second a familiar set of shoulders caught her attention. He was in the middle of the group, clearly their leader or captain or whatever. He had an easy grace, a confidence she usually associated with boys who wouldn’t give her the time of day, but before she could duck her head he caught sight of her too; his eyes flashed in recognition. 

“Ladies,” he said smoothly, something in his voice both teasing and also strangely polite.

“And Barry,” Barry reminded him.

“Sure,” he replied without even looking. 

The group walked on past, and as Felicity’s gaze fell back to their circle she noticed Laurel’s head had turned so far around to follow them she feared her neck might break. Well, well. Somebody else liked those shoulders.

Laurel suddenly seemed to remember there were other people sitting near her and refocused her attention.

“Sorry. Where were we?” The girl who’d been interrupted opened her mouth to start over, but Laurel smiled winningly and cut her off. “You know what? It’s a beautiful day. Let’s move this meeting out to the bleachers!”

What. Fresh. Hell. Is. This. Felicity gathered up her books and trailed behind them into the great outdoors. She was gonna kill Cisco.

Laurel arranged herself so she had the best spot facing the playing fields and the boys warming up. Felicity couldn’t help glancing that direction as she waited her turn for the bleacher stairs; he was there, stretching against the low fence that encircled the track. Their eyes caught again and his eyebrows lifted slightly. Her face bloomed pink with heat.

When she turned back to climb the steps, Laurel was watching her. 

“There’s one other important piece of business we have to get through today.” Laurel waited for the group to settle and get quiet before she continued in a clear voice. “Everyone needs to confirm they’re a virgin.”

Felicity’s head snapped back in surprise. Seriously?! What kind of Discord server was this going to be? Weirdly, no one else seemed fazed by this demand, even the freshmen. In varying volumes, they each confirmed their virginity until all eyes were again resting on her and awaiting her answer. She swallowed hard and resisted the urge to check on her mystery man by the fence. Was he close enough to hear?

“I’m...I mean, yeah. Yes.” Did she have to say the actual word? Laurel was already nodding, apparently satisfied by everyone’s answers. Something about the whole thing made Felicity uncomfortable, like an itch she couldn’t reach between her shoulder blades. 

“Um, sorry, but...wait.” She took a deep breath. “What does Fortnite Club have to do with being a virgin?”

It felt like the whole group took a breath in at the same time. Laurel just stared. And then she smiled, but it wasn’t one of her pretty ones. 

“Did you think this was a video game club?” Her eyes drifted down over Felicity and back up, reassessing her and clearly not approving of the new verdict. “That’s VFC.”

Felicity found herself holding her breath.

“This is VFG.” Laurel’s expression was both sweet and smug. “It stands for Virgins For God.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giant thanks to everyone for the response to chapter one. Your comments are greatly appreciated and very motivating! 😉

“What are you doing hanging with the V Team?!” Cisco hissed.

Felicity had practically plowed straight into him as she re-entered the school building with her brand new club mates. She came to a halt with a frustrated sigh and waited for them to file past before giving him a death look. Cisco actually took a step back.

“I signed up for the wrong club.”

“No shit, Sherlock! Can’t you get out of it?”

Felicity dropped her chin to her chest. “They voted me Secretary.”

Cisco shook his head like she’d just confessed to being a serial killer. She shouldered past him on her way to the front entrance but he fell into step beside her, apparently still willing to be seen with her despite the fact she was suddenly a social pariah.

“Look, we can make you an unofficial VFC member. Here.” He held out his hand for her phone and added his number to her contacts when she relinquished it. “You’ll have to work concessions for both,” he warned.

Felicity shrugged, resigned. She’d just had the lecture from Laurel about the clubs and sports teams taking their turns covering concessions for the athletic events and band competitions. She didn’t have a life; one more obligation wouldn’t make a difference. 

“Why are you still here?” she asked, a bit of self pity still in her voice.

Cisco shrugged. “I tutor after school some days.”

They pushed through the double doors together and started down the front steps of the school. The Pacific Northwest wasn’t sunny like the desert, but there was a definite glare where the sun was supposed to be all the same. Felicity’s nose wrinkled up in a squint.

“Somebody picking you up?” Cisco asked.

She shot him a sidelong look: apparently news of her magnificent entrance that morning hadn’t traveled as far as she’d feared. “My mom.”

They reached the sidewalk and stopped while Felicity chose a spot along the stone wall to drop her bag and hike herself up to sit. Cisco plopped down next to her.

“Townies usually ride the bus.”

She turned her head to study his profile. “Townies?”

“Kids who weren’t born with a silver spoon in their—“

“Watch it,” a tall boy warned mildly as he and a Barbie-pretty girl passed by their spot.

“MOUTHS,” Cisco corrected loudly. “I was about to say mouths.”

Felicity snorted. 

“Townies,” he continued when they were out of earshot, “are any kids who don’t pay full price to get into these hallowed halls.” He swept an arm back dramatically. “The academic scholarships, kids of faculty and staff, that sort of thing. We’re all on a lower rung of the Starling Academy Food Chain. And most of us ride the bus.”

Felicity decided to let his mixed metaphor go. “I didn’t know there was a school bus.”

“It’s a city bus. The stop most of us get on is a couple miles away, on the corner by Morales Market.”

Felicity busied herself rummaging through her backpack so she didn’t have to answer. She and her mom lived out in one of Starling’s suburbs in a tired apartment complex. The bus was not going to be an option.

“I don’t think I can,” she finally hedged. “My mom likes bringing me. It’s just the two of us.” She added the last part in hopes it would explain her reluctance, and maybe their travesty of a motor vehicle Cisco was bound to see at some point. 

“So have her drop you at the bus stop. Then you can have your mother/daughter time and still get to bond with your fellow Townies.” He nudged her with his shoulder when she didn’t answer fast enough. “C’mon. You know you want to.”

Felicity looked sidelong at him and saw him grinning. He really was too much. The familiar and dreaded grumble of her mom’s car floated over the late afternoon air, so she rolled her eyes and shrugged, making it look like she was putting up a bigger fight than she actually was.

“Fine.” She bent to grab her bag in order to hide a smile. “Text me the bus stop address. What time?”

“Bus comes at seven fifty.” Cisco threw her a goofy salute. “See ya tomorrow.”

—————————————

Her mom was full of bubbly enthusiasm the whole ride home, and even splurged for fast food to celebrate the first day of school. Felicity fielded her myriad of inquiries with good-natured sarcasm; she knew this routine, and gave her mother just enough information to keep her happy without triggering any follow-up questions.

She waited to give her bus-riding pitch until they were chilling on the couch, Donna leaning forward so she could fuss with a stylist mannequin head sitting on the coffee table. 

“So a lot of the kids from town ride the bus to school.” Felicity pretended to focus on the tv while gauging her reaction from the corner of her eye. Donna continued to fiddle with her plastic model’s hair. 

“Mom?”

“I don’t know...” She sat back and tilted her head to study her work, and for a second Felicity couldn’t tell if her indecision was for the bus riding or the hairstyle she was working on. “If I’m driving you anyway, why can’t I take you all the way to school?”

Felicity thought of their dramatic entrance that morning and suppressed a shudder. “I made a new friend today, and he rides the bus. He suggested it, actually—“

“A BOY?!” She had all of her mother’s attention now. 

“It’s not like that—“

“My baby met a BOY!”

Felicity cringed at her volume and shrank back into the couch cushions. “I’ve met BOYS before, mom. Cisco’s just a friend.”

“A BOY friend—“

“MOM.”

Donna’s face split into a grin. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop. But honey, I’m still thrilled you made a friend on the first day.” She reached out to squeeze Felicity’s knee and winked. “I told you moving here was going to be good for both of us.”

Felicity forced a smile and watched her mother return to styling the plastic mannequin’s hair. It had been just the two of them for as long as she could remember. After years and years of her mother working two or three jobs as a cocktail waitress to keep them afloat, a childhood friend had run into her at Caesar’s Palace and reminded her that there was more to life than waiting tables in Las Vegas. Donna had earned a cosmetology license at one point, before she’d met Felicity’s dad. Before he’d left her with a free boob job and future Felicity. The friend knew of an opening in the salon where she worked in Starling City; Donna had a genius daughter in need of a high school education that would get her into an Ivy League university and nothing to lose by leaving Sin City. Moving had seemed the logical choice.

Felicity hoped a better life would be that simple. 

————————————-

“There’s a party Friday night. You’re going.”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?”

It was her second morning at the bus stop. Cisco had introduced her to a handful of their fellow Townies, a mixed bunch of low income geeks and nerds she immediately felt at home with. Her people. This was good. 

“You’re going,” he repeated, as if she’d already started her argument against the idea. 

“I’m barely sixteen years old.”

“Going.”

“Cisco—“

“Going,” he sing songed as the bus rumbled into view. Felicity rolled her eyes.

“Who’s going to invite me to a party?” She was practically shouting over the engine noise and the other bus chatter as she clung to a pole in the center aisle. Cisco stood facing her, one hand gripping the top rail and swaying with practiced ease as they turned a corner. The smile he gave her was one of benevolence.

“My sweet summer child, everyone is invited to the first party of the year.” He turned his head to acknowledge someone hailing him from further up the aisle, then leveled a stern look at her. “It’s getting into all the rest of the parties you have to worry about.”

————————————

Felicity ruminated on the idea of the party the rest of the day. Her mother was no prude—sometimes shockingly the opposite, in fact—but Felicity was way under age for drinking. Would she get a yes from her mom just because it was one of those social events Donna was always pushing her to attend? Should she even tell her? It was probably too late to make up a new female friend who might invite her for a cover story sleepover, right? She was so deep in her musings, she plowed right into a perfectly coiffed Laurel, Queen of the Virgins. 

“Oof.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry.” Felicity stumbled back a step, mortified. 

Laurel did a double take.

“Felicity, right?”

“Um, yeah. Sorry again.”

The crease of a frown on Laurel’s forehead smoothed out. “Walk with me,” she decided. 

Felicity glanced back over her shoulder at the direction she’d been headed. “My, um, class—“

“AP Chem, right? I’ll show you a shortcut.” She set off with quick strides; Felicity had to jog to keep up.

“How did you—“

“Know your schedule?” Laurel smiled like a bored monarch. “As a club officer, you had to be vetted.”

“Um, okay.” There didn’t seem to be anything else to say to that. But then something occurred to her to ask. “Hey, do you know about the party on Friday?”

“Everyone knows about the party, Felicity.”

“Sure, but...who’s, you know, throwing it?”

Laurel shot her a look that clearly meant this was information she should already know. “You mean Trent?”

Felicity’s eyebrows lifted to imitate a shrug. 

Laurel sighed dramatically. “Trenton Livingston-Payne the Third.” She lifted her chin to indicate the hallway coming up on their left. “Take that hallway to the end and make a left up the stairs.”

“Are you going?” Felicity called after her. Laurel spun around as she walked, her honey brown curls bouncing like they were in a shampoo commercial. “Everybody goes to the first party. It’s the...”

The next part of her sentence was absorbed by the hallway noise, but Felicity nodded along with a roll of her eyes.

“Rest of the parties...yeah, yeah.”

She sighed and took the hall to her left. 

—————————————

In the end, she didn’t have to think up a strategy at all; VFG scheduled their first social outing for that very same Friday evening, a trip to the movies that made the perfect alibi. It didn’t hurt that the movie theatre they’d chosen was a mere three blocks from Trenton Livingston-Payne’s townhouse. 

Felicity met Cisco on the sidewalk out front; she could already feel the thrum of dance music against her chest as they took the stairs at a jog. They were handed cups just inside the door; Cisco squeezed past the first clump of bodies like it was his house and not some trust fund baby’s. She hurried to keep up. 

It was amazing how many school kids seemed to know Cisco; he was met with waves and fist bumps, mostly from large, athletic types. Felicity couldn’t contain her curiosity.

“How do you know so many people?” she called after him. Before he could answer a tall muscular kid who looked like he’d grow up to be a Wall Street tycoon—or might already be one—dropped a hand onto his shoulder as they passed.

“I helped that guy with his homework.”

Another dude who made the first guy look puny in comparison dipped his chin at them in acknowledgment from a nearby doorway.

Cisco leaned closer to her. “I actually DID that guy’s homework.”

Felicity was about to laugh, but just then she caught sight of a pair of shoulders filling out a dark gray Henley and the sound caught in her throat. 

“You ever, uh, do his homework?” she managed to ask. 

Cisco’s head turned to find the person she meant. 

“Who, Oliver Queen? Nah. His folks don’t need me to explain physics when they can afford to get Neil Degrasse Tyson to do it.”

The joke fell flat because she finally had a name to put with the face. A face now turning her direction and catching her eye. Oliver Queen smiled. 

Cisco’s attention was taken up in another conversation, leaving Felicity stranded and staring like a deer in headlights. She remembered the cup in her hand and covered her blush by taking an experimental sip of her first beer ever. 

It was terrible. 

She must’ve made a face, because when she looked up again Oliver was smirking at her. He separated himself from the cluster of people he’d been standing with and sauntered over, either the smoothest teenager alive or already affected by the alcohol. 

Felicity glanced around for Cisco, not sure she was ready to meet new people without backup, but he was deeply engrossed in some conversation and not paying attention. 

“Get it together, Smoak,” she whispered under her breath. “You can do this. You can totally—“

He walked right past.

Her muttered pep talk disappeared to nothing. Felicity felt her face heat with embarrassment; she squeezed her plastic cup so hard she heard it crinkle over the noise of the party. 

“You say something?” Cisco swiveled her way to ask the question, but she shook her head once, semi-violently, to make him go away. This was a nice big house; maybe there was some little nook where she could hide out until, oh, the end of eternity. Where was the cupboard under the stairs when you needed it?

“Felicity Smoak?”

She jumped a foot; the voice came from just over her shoulder. She turned quick enough to make her ponytail dance. 

“Uh...”

He smiled. “Hi. I’m Oliver Queen.”

He held out his hand, actually held it out to be shaken like they were about to be business partners. Felicity’s consciousness felt a little disconnected from her body. She stuck out her hand blindly, mesmerized by his eyes. And his smile. And the dimples that appeared out of nowhere, just asking to be nuzzled—

“Hey. You gonna drink that?” His eyes flicked down to the hand still extended toward him, and the loss of his very blue gaze caused her brain babble to screech to a halt.

“Oh. Um, no. I didn’t...it’s my first...no.”

Oliver Queen chuckled, a fantastic sound that made her smile despite the toe-curling embarrassment. He took the cup from her outstretched hand and set it aside with his own. Then he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Thought so. I saw the face you made from over there.” His gaze flicked above her head and then back to her. Straight. Into. Her. Soul. “I take it you’re new here?”

“Yeah.” Yeah? Seriously? Her mouth clamped shut with a click of her teeth. “I mean, yes. Yes I am.” She said that last part nice and loud, a thing she’d learned in a YouTube video about tricking yourself into being confident by speaking louder than your normal voice. 

The party noise would, of course, choose that particular moment to die down enough for her voice to be the only sound in the room. Several heads turned her way, and somewhere close by a girl’s laugh rang high and clear; Felicity imagined it was directed at her. 

She dropped her eyes to the floor, horrified, and fell back a step. Ready to turn and run.

“Here.” 

And then his hand was under her elbow, shifting her forward until they were walking together through the townhouse. He didn’t stop until they were standing outside on the back deck overlooking a small but immaculately landscaped backyard lit with white lights and tiki torches.

He let go of her and turned her direction as he hiked himself up on the railing surrounding the deck. Felicity just stared. 

“Too noisy in there.” He smiled softly and tipped his head back the direction they’d come. 

Saysomethingsaysomethingsaysomething. Her brain was nothing but white noise. 

“Do you live around here?” she managed to blurt.

Okay. Not bad.

Oliver looked up and away briefly. “We live outside the city. My dad has an apartment downtown, though. For work.”

The last word fell flat, like “work” wasn’t the word he really meant. Felicity nodded, knowing all about family words with double meanings. 

“Where did you move from?” His sneakered heels bumped the wooden railing softly as he waited for her to answer. She tried not to concentrate on the lines of his arms under his shirt and the woodsy scent coming off him that made her reconsider her lifelong abhorrence to the idea of camping. 

“Las Vegas,” she choked out. Oliver made a sound of interest, so she jumped in to answer the inevitable follow-up question. “For my mom’s job.”

“Ah.” A couple other kids came out the back door and tumbled down the steps into the yard, reminding Felicity that there were a lot of people here and she wouldn’t have this boy’s undivided attention for much longer. He was giving her the look of someone who’d gotten a good buzz on. She’d never been drunk herself, but she’d seen plenty of people partying hard in Vegas; that fuzzy look of happiness made her chest ache in a bizarre, homesick kind of way.

Oliver watched his feet. “I saw you hanging with the VFG...”

Frack.

“Yeah, that’s a funny story, actually—“

His gaze snapped up to the fence at the far end of the yard as angry yells and one girl’s scream suddenly battled with the music thumping inside the house. Without a word he hopped down from the rail and hustled her inside. Felicity’s stomach dropped in fear.

“What is it?” Her voice rose in pitch and cracked. “Cops?!” Ohfrackohfrackohfrack she was too young to be at a party with beer on her breath! Did she drink enough to register on a breathalyzer? Maybe somebody had a breath mint—

Someone in front of them yelled that they were coming through the front door, and Oliver immediately turned to the closest door and twisted the handle to yank it open, pulling her inside behind him. Everything went dark.

Trenton Livingston-what’s-his-name had a freakin’ cupboard under the stairs. 

“Oliver?”

“Shhh. It’s okay. They’ll go away.”

“The cops will go away?” That didn’t seem right at all.

He chuckled, his breath puffing against her forehead, and Felicity suddenly realized how close they had to stand to both fit in the space.

“Not cops. Paps.”

“Wha...?”

“Paparazzi. They always try to get into the big parties.”

It was Felicity’s turn to let out a breathless laugh. “Well why in the world should I have to hide? I’m nobody—“

“Felicity...”

And then Oliver Queen’s hands were on either side of her face, and his mouth was on hers with gentle certainty. Her hands flailed out for something to steady her and found his forearms; she held on for dear life as he pulled away long enough to change the angle of his mouth over hers and then returned to continue the kiss. 

She would be lying if she said she’d never thought about how her first kiss might go, but this scenario had definitely not entered her imagination. She’d never felt so small next to another human before, but at the same time it seemed like she was expanding to fill the closet, the townhouse, and all of Starling City. If she opened her eyes, Felicity felt certain she’d find herself towering over the Pacific Northwest, one foot in Canada and the other in the ocean. 

Somewhere outside their closet a voice passing by announced the all clear. Oliver pulled back for a fraction of a second—it was so quiet in their pitch black bubble she heard him swallow—then pressed his lips to hers one last time, opened the door, and disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I know you’ve despaired of ever hearing from me again, but I promise I have been here, laboring in dribs and drabs on this story. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Was there tongue?”

“I knew I never should’ve told you.”

Cisco chortled into his sandwich. “I need all the facts if I’m gonna give you an informed opinion.”

Felicity let out an exasperated sigh worthy of her mother and leveled Cisco with a look. They’d brought their lackluster sack lunches outside to eat because he’d assured her there wouldn’t be many more gorgeous days like this left before next spring.

“I don’t need your OPINION, I need to know if that’s what he always does.”

Cisco chewed rapidly and swallowed. “Well,” he considered, “I’ve never kissed Oliver Queen, so I really couldn’t say.”

She swatted his arm half-heartedly. “I meant, does he kiss ALL the new girls?”

“Look, I don’t really know him all that well, but he’s always been nice to me.” Cisco looked at her with a serious face. “He seems like a nice guy.”

Felicity bit the edge of her bottom lip and finally nodded; convinced for now. Cisco went back to his sandwich.

“Though he’s probably not serious until he sends you a dick pic.”

She rolled her eyes and vowed to get at least one girl friend this school year. 

“Move over, losers.”

Cisco was scooting her direction before Felicity could even process what was happening. And then a pair of bare legs under the shortest uniform skirt she’d ever seen appeared next to Cisco on the wall. Friendly blue eyes in a pretty face dotted with freckles turned her way.

“Who’s the new girl, Cisco?”

He didn’t look up from his lunch. “Sara Lance, Felicity Smoak.”

Sara’s face broadened to a grin. “Felicity Smoak. I’ve heard of you.”

Felicity just stared.

“You’re in VFG with my sister.”

Sister...sister...Felicity’s eyes went wide. This Sara—with her far-beyond-regulations skirt, messy plaits, and devil-may-care smile—was related to the perfectly coiffed, pressed, and polished Laurel Lance? 

“Sister?” she managed weakly. 

Sara laughed. “I know, right?”

Cisco nudged Sara’s shoulder as he looked at Felicity. “Sara here could probably answer your Oliver Queen question.”

Felicity’s face immediately went red.

Sara’s lips pooched out and twisted adorably. “What’s Ollie done now?”

Oh frack. Felicity’s brain fried looking for an answer. “Ah ha ha, nothing—“

“Hey, Pretty Bird. You ready?”

The might-be-a-day-trader from the party had appeared out of nowhere and was holding a hand out for Sara. She winked at Felicity and hopped off the wall to skip to his side.

“Tell me later, ‘kay?” She grinned as he pulled her behind him toward the student parking lot. “Afternoon classes blow.”

Felicity knew her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn’t help it. “How...won’t she get into trouble?”

Cisco looked up from his lunch to watch them go. “Miraculously, Sara never gets in trouble for anything.”

Felicity stared after Sara’s retreating form and decided she didn’t want to know why she would know so much about Oliver Queen.

——————————————

The Virtual Fortnite Club was pretty cool; her first official meeting was mostly ten nerds playing Among Us. Felicity relaxed into the couch and let herself get lost in the fun of the game, happy for the distraction from her suddenly-complicated life. A tap on her shoulder made her sit up and blink over her shoulder. Her mother was mincing past in skinny jeans and an off the shoulder sweater.

“I’m ready to head out, baby. You okay here tonight?”

The inquiry was complete formality; Felicity had been surviving home alone since she was seven years old.

“I’m fine.” She bit her lip. “Hey, mom?”

Donna turned with a smile. “Yeah?”

She wanted to ask her mom what it meant when a boy you’d known for five minutes kissed you like he would die if he didn’t. She wanted to know if that was normal. She wanted to know how she could possibly move on with her life until she saw him again.

But she didn’t. 

“Nothing. Have fun.”

The doorbell rang to announce the arrival of a sassy brunette named Carla, Donna’s ride and the reason they’d gotten the idea to move to Starling in the first place. She flipped a wave to Felicity but didn’t take the time to come in.

Donna’s expression was positively giddy as she blew a kiss to her daughter. “Balayage class tonight. Don’t wait up!”

—————————————-

“May I say, Miss Smoak, that Starling Academy counts itself lucky to have a young lady as bright and full of promise as you. Your SAT score is the highest ever recorded by a student enrolled at this school, and we’ve educated two US Senators!”

Felicity swallowed a retort to that comparison and only smiled. The school counselor still had two chubby fingers held in the air, one to represent each of the venerable senators, she assumed. 

“In addition to your course load, which I must say is ambitious, we think it would behoove you to volunteer as a tutor for some of our, ah, less motivated students.” He gave her a patronizing lift of an eyebrow. “Your academic resumé is sorely lacking in community service hours.”

Felicity couldn’t believe he hadn’t added a stern “young lady” to the end of that sentence; it was definitely implied. Perhaps he’d like to hear about the hours she’d spent hunched over a casino break room table, quizzing herself on Latin roots and the periodic table while avoiding the grabby hands of the pervy Chef. Or the summers making beds in a high rise hotel on the strip for cash under the table to help her mother cover the cost of school supplies. Volunteer hours hadn’t really been an option. 

The urge to reply with snark was strong, but she pushed all those words down into her chest with the rest of her “impulsive teenage feelings”—a phrase she’d learned from a middle school health teacher—and nodded acceptance. The counselor flashed her a smile full of coffee stained teeth and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She was almost across the threshold when he spoke again. “We’ll send a note to you via your first period teacher when we have you matched with a student to tutor. Oh, and congratulations on becoming an officer in VFG. If’s a fine club for a remarkable young woman like yourself.”

She pretended not to hear that last part.

—————————————-

Cisco dropped his tray of chili and applesauce onto the table next to her and straddled the bench sideways. 

“Can you work concessions this afternoon for VFC?”

“Hello to you too.” She didn’t look up from her phone. 

“Hi, Felicity. How was Chem? Can you please fill in for Cameron at Concessions for the Girls Soccer Game this afternoon? He has to have emergency work done on his braces.”

She looked up and flashed him a brief smile. “Be happy to.” Her hand snaked out to grab a package of saltines off his tray. He huffed annoyance.

“You could buy lunch, you know.”

Felicity didn’t reply; she’d crunched the budget numbers for this month, and school lunch really wasn’t an option. Maybe after her mother got her first client at the salon.

“What do I have to do?” she asked around a mouthful of cracker.

“For concessions? Not much. Make pretzels, keep stuff stocked. You get a free hot dog and a drink for your trouble.”

Felicity fished another cracker—the other half of her lunch—out of the package. So she’d get an actual meal later; things were looking up. 

—————————————-

She had a little trouble finding the concession stand where she was supposed to work; the main school building might be a hundred and fifty years old, but the rest of the sprawling campus was dotted with multiple state-of-the-art sports facilities. Before going inside to man her post, Felicity cruised past the counter to sneak a peek inside at her potential co-workers; the space was already occupied by two jocks in sweats and “Starling Academy Athletics” tee shirts. Great. A fellow Fortnite member—a Townie she’d met on the bus—was sitting outside the room at a portable cash register. He gave her a half-hearted wave. 

“You can’t work in there with me?” she pleaded in a desperate whisper. 

He grimaced. “They don’t trust those guys with the money.”

Felicity rolled her eyes at fate and slid her backpack off her shoulder in resignation.

“Heyyy,” a male voice greeted her as she entered and stuffed her bag under a shelf on the opposite side of the room. She didn’t respond. It was a bit of a trick to both ignore him while simultaneously keeping tabs on the movements of the two big males occupying the small space; a girl couldn’t be too careful, even in a busy school.

“Hey. New girl.”

A glance across the room told her the shorter of the two guys was waggling a hot dog at her from the top of the band of his sweatpants. Ugh.

“Knock it off, Wally,” the other guy ordered mildly. His voice made her freeze:

Oliver Queen was working concessions.

Despite a nearly constant search every school day since the party, she hadn’t seen even a glimpse of him. And now here he was, the first boy she’d ever kissed, standing next to a guy with a hot dog hanging out of his pants. This was it. This was how she’d die.

He must’ve recognized her deer in headlights look, because he gave his friend a shove and the guy stopped being stupid. The corners of Oliver’s mouth quirked up at her, but then the first in a long line of people was at the counter asking for a cinnamon pretzel and she had to figure out how the hell THAT was supposed to go based on the very vague and grease-splotched instructions taped to the wall by the microwave. Before she knew it, an hour had passed. 

Her feet hurt, her hair was coming out of its ponytail, and there was a stain on her school polo that was going to make her mother highly suspicious unless she was very clear about her afternoon activities, but the rush finally seemed to be over. 

“Hey.”

Fracking frack, it had been so busy she’d almost forgotten he was here. Oliver’s elbow landed next to her as he leaned his upper body against the counter. Felicity’s face went red.

“Where’s, uh, hot dog guy?” She did NOT need an encore of that performance.

“Wally? He went to catch the end of the game.”

“What’s up with rich people and naming their children?”

Oliver huffed a laugh, and she realized she’d said that out loud.

“His name’s Craig, actually. Wally’s short for his last name, Wallbeezer.”

It was Felicity’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, in that case, Wally’s definitely an improvement.”

She risked a glance at Oliver’s profile as he watched people go by. “He’s kind of a jerk,” she said softly. 

Oliver looked at her. “Yeah, but we have to keep him around. His family owns half the vineyards in the state.”

She watched him very carefully to see if he was teasing her, but when his eyes stayed soft she let herself smile.

“How ya been?” He looked away again; it sounded like simple small talk on the surface, but an underlying tension made it a much more intimate question. She found herself weirdly glad he’d broken eye contact. 

“Good,” she managed. “I’m good.”

Why did you kiss me? What did it mean? 

He nodded, but still didn’t look at her. 

A group of girls in soccer uniforms filed passed looking tired and sweaty, and Oliver exchanged greetings with a few of them. At the tail end of the procession Felicity recognized Sara Lance. Her jersey was pulled up into the band of her sports bra, showing off the defined planes of her torso. She glanced over as she passed, flashing Oliver a cheeky smile before noticing he wasn’t alone.

“Hey, Felicity.” Her expression was open and friendly; there was a streak of dirt across her temple that looked like art. She changed course for the concessions window, and that’s when Felicity realized she was holding her soccer cleats in one hand, padding around the school in just socks. 

“You look hot,” Felicity blurted. All three of them seemed to register her words at once. “I mean sweaty hot, not, you know, hot hot.” 

Next to her, Oliver chuckled. “Hot hot, too.”

Sara glanced between them, delighted, and grinned. She let a brief pause hang over them, like she was stringing out a surprise. “How’s business?” 

Felicity felt like she didn’t just mean selling pretzels; she wondered if they were all thinking that.

“Pretty good,” Oliver answered easily. Beside him, watching the perfectly imperfect Sara Lance take up all the oxygen in the room, Felicity had another brief out of body experience: was she actually here, in this moment, interacting with these people like she was one of them? The conversation went on without her, their flirty banter bouncing between them as she imagined what it must be like to have that much self-confidence already. Did they even know how lucky they were?

Felicity blinked herself back to the present when she realized Sara was speaking directly to her.

“See ya around, kid.” Sara’s blue eyes snapped with mischief as she smacked the counter with her palm before sauntering away. 

Felicity tried not to watch Oliver watching Sara walk away, but it was pretty obvious what he was doing. She cleared her throat gently.

“Why do you have to work concessions anyway?” she asked. When he turned to look at her she panicked a little at her boldness but pushed on in a rush. “Don’t you have a stick ball net game thing to play?”

Oliver laughed out loud. “It’s called Lacrosse, Felicity.” Her face burst into flame in embarrassment, but he dropped a hand lightly onto her shoulder to let her know he wasn’t laughing at her. “It’s actually a spring sport, so we won’t be training for a while yet. But Homecoming’s in a couple of weeks, and since we don’t have a football team at SA we hold a Lacrosse scrimmage against alumni and faculty.” He turned around to rest his back against the counter. “Then there’s the official Homecoming dance, and the unofficial and much more entertaining after party at the beach.” Oliver winked—actually honest-to-Google winked at her. “You should come.”

Felicity hid the sudden rapid beat of her heart by turning away to wipe down the counter like it was a career goal: did Oliver Queen just ask her to go to a party??

“Dude, let’s go!”

Wally the Jerk was back; with her head still bent to her task she felt more than saw Oliver move around her for the door, already laughing at some stupid thing his friend was doing in the hallway. 

He didn’t say goodbye.

An adult blew into the room a few minutes later, stressed and distracted, and gave the space the once-over to confirm it had been cleaned properly before shooing her away. The cashier stand was empty, her fellow VFC member already turning the corner at the end of the hall. Too late she remembered the free hot dog she was entitled to, though there was no telling which one had been down Wally’s pants. By the time she’d made it to the main entrance—alone—rain was pounding down outside. Great.

She texted her mother to remind her of the later pickup, but received no reply. Donna hadn’t actually responded to her earlier text either, which made her wonder if she even knew her daughter was still at school. This was not comforting information to ponder, under the circumstances. Felicity knew from other late days at school that the next city bus wouldn’t come until after the main school building had closed for the day, leaving her—at best—standing in the rain. She hiked her backpack up to cover her head and stepped out into the downpour. Might as well start walking to Morales Market to wait for her mother to remember to look at her messages. 

She was already soaking wet by the time she made it to the end of the sidewalk and prepared to dash across the street. That’s when she noticed the car pulling up beside her. She told herself to keep her eyes forward as the driver side window rolled down.

“Felicity! Are you crazy? Get in!”

With her eyes squinted against the rain and water dripping off her hair, she turned to look at Oliver Queen.


End file.
